


Volatile

by Lexigent



Category: Hamlet - Fandom, SHAKESPEARE William - Works
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-04-01
Packaged: 2018-03-29 09:09:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3890632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lexigent/pseuds/Lexigent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anything Hamlet touches is somewhat combustible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Volatile

**Author's Note:**

> Hamlet, Laertes, Ophelia and Horatio. Some naughty bits and chemistry metaphors.

By the time Hamlet left for university, Laertes hated him already. Laertes was better with a sword, for sure, but Hamlet was first to figure out how to twist his body in a manner that took his breath away and wink at him _just so_ , and more often than not Laertes finished fencing lessons in the locker room with one hand around Hamlet's throat and the other in his hair.

They both carried bruises in a number of interesting places from those encounters. Laertes hid his under scarves and long sleeves, while Hamlet wore his recklessly, like a badge of honour, in the face of everyone.

***

He let Ophelia kiss them better, though he knew full well she wasn't fooled as to their origin.

"I don't mind," she told him, "I'd rather this than someone outright unfaithful." He marvelled at her sometimes; wondered how her father could underestimate her so much, could assume she knew nothing of the world just because she preferred reading to going outside.

***

Both siblings set him aflame, and he couldn't help himself - even knowing that what happened between him and Laertes wasn't so much a spark as a full-blown chemical disaster every time, and just like the reactions they went through in chemistry class, if he allowed it to continue for too long, it would consume either one of them eventually.

***

Horatio, unfortunately, is different from either of them. It's not like being with either of the siblings, comfortable warmth or burning, threatening heat - it's looking in the mirror and seeing everything you're missing, like developing photos and looking at negative and positive next to one another - both soaked in acid, both incomplete without the other.

Hamlet's taken in, irresistibly, and he is a long way from home so he tells himself it won't even matter, no one has to know, he can have this and still sacrifice nothing.

When he touches Horatio for the first time, it terrifies him that his first thought is _I don't want to go back, unless I have to_ , and he fears he's just set off something he can't control.

***

It turns out that _unless I have to_ is not a terribly long time, and there is little doubt of death's power as a catalyst in Hamlet's mind.

He looks at Laertes and Ophelia over his mother's shoulder and prepares for the worst.  



End file.
